Author's Note: For Brenna, who requested some seriously hot frottage. I hope this is satisfactory, madame.
He fumbled with the key card twice before the swipe registered, barely getting a foot inside the door before two strong, tanned hands fisted in the lapels of his jacket and hurled him bodily against the wall of the hallway. Greg kicked the door shut with a loud slam and pressed the length of his body into Mycroft's.
Greg was all heat and muscle even through the layers of his clothes, and the sheer power that lay underneath was evident in the hard press. The sudden contact sparked a fierce burn that moved like lightning through his limbs. Their eyes locked, Greg's face so close, his warm breath gusting over Mycroft's lips. A feral glint glimmered in his amber eyes and the lines of his face were hard, focused. He could feel the slight tremor in Greg's body, realizing with excitement that Greg was having a hard time holding back. The knowledge was euphoric. His tongue slipped out to moisten lips that had suddenly gone dry as a bone and Greg's eyes followed the gesture, darkening with intense hunger.
"Hello, Mycroft. Safe trip?" Greg murmured.
"Yes, thank you," he managed to croak.
"Brilliant."
Something flared in Greg's eyes and then his mouth descended in a growl, capturing his lips in a rough caress. The fingers at his chest gripped harder and Greg moved, flattening himself, ensuring that no part of their bodies remained unconnected.
The brief pleasantries were the only warning he had before everything became hot, wet, and so frighteningly possessive. Mycroft's hands reflexively dropped his bags to steady themselves on Greg's hips because instantly Greg was everywhere, his tongue forcing its way inside his mouth on a ragged groan, his lips and teeth kissing and biting their way across his mouth and jaw, branding him with each fiery pass.
Every nerve in his body shot to life, powered by the electric current of Greg's demanding movements. The hands that held him so tightly went flat, palms sliding across his chest and torso, nails raking and clenching through layers of cotton and wool. Mycroft gasped as Greg's lips found his ear, alternating between the dizzying sensations of licking and sucking. His cock hardened in his trousers, straining, aching to press closer. Greg must have felt it, because he groaned and shifted, pulling back and then rocking forward to slam Mycroft's hips hard against the wall. His fingers curled into the waistband of Greg's jeans for support as he went boneless and melted against him, the feel of their bodies pressed together, so hard, making him flush with want.
Greg braced his weight and pushed harder with his hips, aligning their erections, allowing them to roughly slide back and forth between the heavy layers of fabric. He moaned, low and deep in the back of his throat and Mycroft turned his head back to find Greg's lips and capture them with his own. The DI opened for him and Mycroft's vision went fuzzy beneath his closed lids as he slipped his tongue inside. Greg arched against him with a whimper and met him thrust for thrust. The taste of him was extraordinary. Fire and heat and spice and sex. Druggingly addictive and he wanted more.
Mouths slid across one another with hard, biting kisses as hands roamed, seeking the fire that was contained at every point of contact. Mycroft pushed from against the wall, feeling bolder, wanting more of this man in his grasp, under his hands, in his mouth. Greg smiled beneath his lips as he upped the game, grinding furiously into Mycroft as they fought for dominance.
The sensation was staggering, every touch, every kiss rerouting the neural pathways of pleasure straight to his cock. He wanted. He needed. Mycroft groaned at the intensity of the desire, every nerve alive and making him tremble. Greg held him tight, pressing, pushing, touching, biting, kissing and licking in a frenzied whirlwind of hands and lips. He was a tangible, living embodiment of passion, every part of him seeping into all of Mycroft's senses, filling him until every conscious part of him knew nothing but Greg. His cock jumped and twitched in response and a strange heaviness began to build at the base of his spine, twisting and curling into a burning coil of tension.
Greg panted heavily and increased the pressure of the kiss, teeth rough and clashing, and Mycroft felt a sharp sting and a whispery tang of blood blossomed on his lips. Neither man pulled back and Greg continued the assault, bucking against him in earnest.
"Oh, God, Greg! Greg!" he moaned, breaking free from Greg's lips. "Yes! Greg, please!"
The tension spiraled downward and he pushed against Greg's hips, and finally the coil unraveled and burst as orgasm claimed him. He shuddered violently in release, groaning softly as he felt the hot wetness in his trousers.
Greg's head snapped back at Mycroft's hoarse wail and his hands wound their way into his hair, jerking his head back sharply. Greg's head dropped to the curve of his neck as those fingers curled into his scalp, the sting so hot and so delicious. Another harsh growl from Greg as his hips rocked faster, fucking him hard against the wall.
"Mycroft, I…..Oh, fuck! Fuck, Mycroft!"
He felt Greg quake and shiver against him, clutching him fiercely as release overtook him.
Greg slumped against him with a ragged sigh, his breath hot and moist on his neck. When he pulled back, Greg's eyes were hazy and a slight frown turned down his bruised lips. His breathing came in choppy, uneven puffs and his voice was rough as he rasped, "Oh, Christ, Mycroft. I'm sorry. That has never happened to me before."
Mycroft gave him a misty grin and chuckled, "Me either."
Greg's face broke into a slow and sleepy smile and it made Mycroft want to kiss him again. "Another unexpected first, then?"
Mycroft nodded and gave into to the urge, ghosting a kiss across Greg's lips.
Greg's face went serious. "I really had intended to draw this out. Make it good." His thumb came up to swipe away the tinge of blood from his swollen lip. "Sorry about that." He snorted roughly through his nose and rested his forehead on Mycroft's. "I just-," he paused, looking for the words, "God, Mycroft, what you do to me."
"I think I'm beginning to understand."
"Fuck, you must be dead on your feet," he said, suddenly stepping back. "I think we could both do with a shower and a nap." Greg chuckled as he began to divest Mycroft of his tie. "Don't worry," he said with a smile, "I promise to behave." He winked mischievously. "For now."